


900 degrees

by getloud



Series: succinct, a drabble collection [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drabble, M/M, somewhere in between canon divergence and a university au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26026150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/getloud/pseuds/getloud
Summary: When a standard cigarette burns, the tip reaches a temperature of about nine hundred degrees Celsius. Kiyoomi believes it couldn’t be much different. It couldn’t be much different than the ablaze temperature within him when Matsukawa slips a warm tongue inside his hungry mouth.
Relationships: Sakusa Kiyoomi/Mastsukawa Issei
Series: succinct, a drabble collection [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861282
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	900 degrees

**Author's Note:**

> the birth of matsukawa/sakumatsu, bless.
> 
> cw: smoking

_ Matsukawa Issei is a college sophomore, works part-time at the university bookstore, and is in Kiyoomi’s physiological psychology class. _

“Would you like to rent or purchase this book?” Matsukawa asks from behind the register.

“Rent, please.” Kiyoomi pushes the glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Who’re taking for this class?”

“Uhm, I don’t remember. Something with  _ Ku _ … I think?”

“ _ Kuroda _ ? I think we’re in the same class then.” Matsukawa smiles. Kiyoomi replies with a nod. “See you around,” the bookseller continues, handing Kiyoomi his textbooks.

“Yeah.” Kiyoomi’s eyes venture to the tag that hangs from his neck. “See you around.”

_ Matsukawa Issei smells like Dior’s Fahrenheit. _

“Skin receptors are called mechanoreceptors,” Matsukawa begins explaining, gently placing his finger on Kiyoomi’s forearm. “As you know, they analyze skin sensations by responding to pressure on the skin.” Kiyoomi nods. Matsukawa then trails his index finger to Kiyoomi’s neck, where the spine juts out. “The information, then passes through the spinal cord, to the medulla, then the thalamus.” His finger’s destination is at the side of Kiyoomi’s head, standing within thick, dark curls, much different than his own shorter ones.

Kiyoomi watches as Matsukawa leans in over the desk, the older’s scent unhealthily burning his cheeks. The aroma traveling up Kiyoomi’s nose was a merger of poles, a marriage of paradoxes. Hot and cold, gentleness and strength, effortlessness and complication, evaporated off Matsukawa’s exposed skin and his neatly ironed dress shirt.

Kiyoomi holds back from leaning into his touch, ceasing the urge to cool his blazing cheeks on Matsukawa’s kind palm. They sit there for a while: Matsukawa’s finger in Kiyoomi’s hair, Kiyoomi staring into Matsukawa’s hooded eyes with slightly widened ones.

“Sakusa- _ san _ .” Matsukawa utters in a low voice. “Can I kiss you?” Kiyoomi surveys every bend of the other’s pink, moistened lips.

Kiyoomi is about to lose his mind. 

_ Matsukawa is so gentle and Kiyoomi is willing to bend the rules for him. _

Kiyoomi takes a long, last drag at the wilting cigarette they shared. He raises his head, black curls in his eyes, puffing out the smoke into the air sitting above the two. Kiyoomi examines the tip of the cigarette and puts it out on the cover of his textbook that sat on the coffee table.

“What was that for?” Matsukawa chuckles softly.

“What do you mean?” Kiyoomi leans into Matsukawa's chest. A delicate gasp escapes his lips as Matsukawa snakes an arm under his t-shirt. For a reason beyond Kiyoomi’s understanding, his mind couldn’t get used to Matsukawa’s touch.  _ Tactile memory: the system involved in the storage and retrieval of information about stimuli that press on the body’s surface, _ Kiyoomi recited in his head.

“The book’s ruined. You’re going to need it for finals, plus it’s a rental.” They don’t spare it another glance: the book, now, with a gaping, burnt hole on the cover.

“So what?” Kiyoomi mumbled into Matsukawa’s ear, resting his chin on the older’s shoulder. Their study sessions quickly made their way to Kiyoomi’s dorm room (the freshman dorms were much nicer than those of the sophomores) and dramatically cut in length due to Kiyoomi needingly crawling onto Matsukawa’s lap. Regardless of his towering height, Kiyoomi always appeared so small straddled by Matsukawa. “I can always use yours, right?”

“Of course.” Matsukawa breathes a laugh in between kissing Kiyoomi’s neck mercifully. Kiyoomi attempts to ease the sensations bursting inside of him by running his fingers through Matsukawa’s hair.

Touch, receptors, action potentials.

Matsukawa’s fingers and lips and skin and scent, Kiyoomi’s deprivation, smoldering heat.

Kiyoomi pulls away from the embrace, loosely wrapping his arms around the older’s neck. He scans Matsukawa, with one eye blocked by his perfectly disheveled hair.

When a standard cigarette burns, the tip reaches a temperature of about nine hundred degrees Celsius. Kiyoomi believes it couldn’t be much different. It couldn’t be much different than the ablaze temperature within him when Matsukawa slips a warm tongue inside his hungry mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on [twitter :P](https://twitter.com/tobiodraft)


End file.
